


The Will to Power

by snarkatthemoon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Knotting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Coming Untouched, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Derek, Rimming, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkatthemoon/pseuds/snarkatthemoon
Summary: '“Let me see you, Stiles.” Derek coaxes Stiles to open his eyes with a hand on his cheek, careful to avoid the fresh wound on his face. Derek’s looking at him like he can’t believe he’s real, and Stiles feels his cheeks and chest heat up with a flush at the intensity of it.“I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.” His face scrunches up in pain at the mere thought and Stiles isn’t sure how to reply, but now understands why everything feels so potent.This isn’t just sex, this is life-affirming sex.'
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 468





	The Will to Power

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this back in 2012 and came back to it in this great year of our lord 2020. Teen Wolf and fanfic has helped me cope during lockdown so I thought I'd get back into writing my own - here you are!
> 
> Unbeta'd - all mistakes are my own so please help me out by leaving a comment if you spot any!
> 
> Please see below if you're concerned by the mention of dub con in the tags.

They’ve just got back to the loft after the third attack this week. Stiles has come out relatively unscathed apart from a cut which stretches from the corner of his left eye to the corner of his mouth. It’s shallow and won’t need stitches, throbbing and stinging slightly whenever he moves his mouth. The pain is more than bearable but despite that, it seems that Derek can’t even bear to look at him.

Which is why Stiles is surprised when Derek covers his body after he collapses on Derek’s bed. 

Derek is trembling; full-body shocks transferring from his body to Stiles’ where they’re pressed together almost from head to toe. Derek’s scenting Stiles, his face pressed into the right side of his neck and he keeps sniffing then whining like he’s trying to escape the heavy smell of blood and skin that’s healing too slowly.

Stiles feels like crying.

Even worse, he thinks Derek might be.

“Derek?” Stiles tries to turn his head so that he can see him, but it seems he’s not done with the scenting, and Derek lets out a desperate half-moan, half-growl. “Use your words.”

“Just can’t let you go right now.” Derek mumbles into Stiles’s shoulder, and he sounds desperate in a way that he never has before. Derek takes pride in his control, but it feels as if it’s slipping right in that moment, and for a split second Stiles is scared. “Wanna be close to you, as close as possible.”

Stiles tries to breathe deeply to calm himself, as best as he can with a muscle-clad, freaking out werewolf lying on top of him, but his chest stutters as he says, “You wanna be inside me?”

Derek whines, gripping Stiles’ shoulders as he nods into his neck. Stiles still feels the usual thrill-tingle of excitement that often consumes him before they fuck, but also a bone-deep feeling of dread that Derek either doesn’t pick up on or is choosing to ignore.

But Stiles can’t help himself.

“Please.”

Derek moves, and the heat of his body disappears and leaves Stiles shivering face-down on the bed. He can hear the soft swish of clothing being removed so he makes a move to sit up, undressing while facing away from Derek, trying to keep his emotions in check. 

Stiles’s hands are shaking as he removes his boxers. He’s hard, as hard as the promise of getting fucked by Derek always makes him, but this is different. A strange kind of intensity hangs in the air and the space between them feels both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. 

“Stiles, you’re thinking too much right now. Please, I need you.” Derek’s voice startles him. He sounds more like himself now, more sure, more Derek. But there’s still an unnerving edge of desperation that Stiles has never heard in his voice before.

Derek reaches for him, propping him up on his hands and knees while he begins to stroke Stiles’ sides gently, soothingly, as if he’s trying to calm a frightened animal with his hands. It makes Stiles feel delicate, like something that can be broken. It feels so different to how he felt earlier, wielding his wolfsbane-infused blade at a bunch of feral omegas. He’d felt ready to take on the world, fueled by adrenaline and the pull in his gut which alerted him that his friends, his pack were in danger.

Derek makes him feel protected, like something worth protecting. Like he belongs.

Stiles grips the sheets underneath his fingers when Derek’s hands skim over his ass cheeks, parting them in a way which speaks of what’s to come. The soft gasp that escapes from Stiles’ lips when Derek rubs the pad of his thumb over his hole is one that can only be described as needy.

“Stiles.” Derek whines, his stubbled cheek rasping over the sensitive skin of Stiles’ ass while the tip of his thumb catches then dips inside his rim, dry. Stiles clenches his eyes shut tightly, but winces when it pulls on the fresh cut on his face. He hopes dimly that he hasn’t made it bleed again, he doesn’t really fancy having to stop this to go and sort out his bleeding face.

Derek whines again, removing his thumb and replacing it with his mouth instead. Stiles’ body jolts, little bolts of electricity spreading out from his centre all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Derek is whining low against him, the vibrations along with the slide of his tongue flat against his hole makes Stiles keen, cursing how dirty it makes him feel when he starts to press back against Derek’s face.

“Please,” he moans, dropping his head low so his chin touches his chest. He looks down the line of his body, absently noting how his cock has started to leak pre-come, the wetness smearing over his stomach. He needs more. 

Derek squeezes his cheeks as his pulls his face away. Stiles hears the faint click of the lube opening before there’s a blunt pressure at his hole which he can’t help but press back into.

“Stiles.” Derek moans as his finger slips inside so easily. And it’s like he can’t stop saying his name; like a prayer, or a curse, or maybe just to let Stiles know that he’s still with him. That they’re experiencing this together despite not being able to look each other in the eye for reassurance.

“Fuck!” Stiles can’t hold back when Derek’s finger brushes over his prostate. His back arches in pleasure causing Derek’s finger to slip out of him suddenly. He’s ashamed of the noise he makes at the loss but within seconds Derek’s fingers return, two this time, stretching him more perfectly than the first.

It feels like the air in the room has been sucked out. This feels different, like every touch, sound and movement is charged with electricity. It’s both too much and not enough at the same time and Stiles feels like he’s unravelling when Derek adds a third finger. He can’t stop the noises from leaving his mouth, his breath hitching with every press against his prostate. Derek uses his free hand to stroke down the line of his back soothingly and Stiles just can’t.

“Stiles, please.” Derek’s voice sounds wrecked, like he’s unsure what he’s asking for. Stiles can’t hold on any longer and his body stiffens, his insides clenching painfully around Derek’s fingers as he comes untouched all over the sheets below him, stars bursting through his vision. 

“Fuck, Stiles.” It’s all Derek can say as Stiles shakes through the aftershocks of his orgasm. His legs are shaking and he’s vaguely aware that Derek’s fingers have left his body and he’s being gently rolled onto his back. 

He forces his eyes open, panting like he’s ran a mile, and Derek looks as wrecked as he’d sounded. He’s looking down at Stiles, his eyes briefly flashing red in the low light and his jaw slightly slack with what can only be described as awe. 

Stiles has never had anyone look at him like that, like he’s the only person in the whole world. 

He throws his arm over his eyes to avoid Derek’s fierce gaze. Derek huffs in frustration and slides his hand gently up Stiles’s arm and lowers it from his face.

“Let me see you, Stiles.” Derek coaxes Stiles to open his eyes with a hand on his cheek, careful to avoid the fresh wound on his face. Derek’s looking at him like he can’t believe he’s real, and Stiles feels his cheeks and chest heat up with a flush at the intensity of it.

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.” His face scrunches up in pain at the mere thought and Stiles isn’t sure how to reply, but now understands why everything feels so potent. 

This isn’t just sex, this is life-affirming sex. 

He feels suddenly overwhelmed, overcome with emotions he’s not sure he understands. All he can do is whine when Derek gradually lowers his body down to cover Stiles’ again. His cock stirs against his lower belly when Derek ruts his own length against the curve of Stiles’s hip, dipping his head to capture his lips in a desperate kiss.

Stiles can hardly breathe with how intense it feels. Derek is being so careful not to aggravate the cut on Stiles’s face but he’s licking into his mouth with a kind of urgency that speaks volumes about how he’s feeling in that moment. Like if he lets go of Stiles too long he’ll disappear. 

Derek threads their fingers together as he pulls away, intense heat burning in his eyes.

“Derek, it’s okay.” Stiles whimpers from underneath him. He shifts his hips slightly against Derek and realises his cock is fully hard once more. “Need you inside me, please.” He spreads his legs as wide as they’ll go and grinds the back of his head into the pillow as he lets his eyes fall closed, submissive and desperate. 

“Fuck, Stiles.” Derek rumbles above him. His limited vocabulary would be amusing to Stiles if he wasn’t so eager to feel him deep inside. If it’s life-affirming sex Derek wants, that’s what he’s gonna get. 

Derek’s fingers are still laced with his, his hand pinning Stiles’ to the mattress level with his shoulder. With his other hand he grips the base of his cock, smoothing some of the remaining lube from his fingers down his length. Stiles watches, his own cock twitching as Derek lines himself up with Stiles’s entrance. Stiles uses his own free hand to pull right leg up and hooks his arm under his knee while his other leg hooks round the back of Derek’s thighs, giving him better access.

Derek tips his hips forward, thrusting into Stiles long and slow in one movement. The angle is so deep with Stiles’ legs pulled upwards and outwards that they both groan at the feeling when Derek is all the way inside. The stretch is a perfect mix of pleasure and pain and he focuses on the pain in that moment to keep himself grounded, because he feels like he’s coming apart with the way that Derek’s looking at him.

“Derek, please,” Stiles says. “I can’t-”

He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say. It’s all too much and vaguely he realises that his body is shaking.

Derek squeezes his hand and strokes his free hand gently down Stiles’s cheek, being careful not to touch the cut on his face. He looks pained when he looks at it. “Stiles, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Stiles whimpers, feeling overcome by emotion and the tenderness in Derek’s words and touches. He squeezes Derek’s hand in answer and Derek starts to move. 

He starts off slow, as always, but there’s something different in his movements, in his expression. Stiles can’t stop looking at him, his eyes following the flutter of his eyelashes, the way his muscles move under his skin as his body moves and the way his fangs descend when he throws his head back.

Stiles’ eyes widen; this is new. Derek is always so restrained, so careful and able to control every aspect of his wolf during sex. But now, his eyes are bleeding red as they meet Stiles’ and he can feel dull bursts of pain where Derek’s claws are pressing lightly against his hip and the back of his hand that’s still in Derek’s grasp.

This feels so intimate; Derek not being able to stop his wolf from coming to the surface. His cock jumps with a new and exciting wave of arousal. Derek must know Stiles is getting off on this with the way he suddenly whines low in his throat, not even trying to pull his fangs or claws back.

“Derek, fuck.” Stiles moans and it’s like a dam bursts inside Derek. He growls, nuzzling his face into Stiles’ neck and starts pounding into him fast and hard. Stiles cries out, the painful pleasure taking over his body with each thrust and brutal brush over his prostate. He has to brace both hands against the headboard as he can feel himself being pushed up the bed by the force of Derek’s body over him, inside him, everywhere, overwhelming ever fibre of his being. 

Derek is making these low, animalistic noises against Stiles’ neck, licking at the fragile skin there and grazing his teeth against Stiles’ pulse-point as the blood rushes through at an ever-increasing tempo. 

A jolt of fear cuts through the haze of arousal and Stiles feels like he’s about to come apart again. He feels like prey under the weight of the werewolf above him. At any moment Derek could lose control, bite down and rip through the skin, muscle and bone. It’s like he’s balancing on the edge of a cliff, too scared to move but desperate to fall.

He does fall when Derek sucks on the flesh where his neck meets his shoulder, the points of his fangs digging gently into but not breaking the skin. 

Stiles’ vision whites out, his eyes wide and unseeing and his mouth opening on a silent scream. He’s straining to stay still against the teeth in his skin while his orgasm rips through his body in waves, coming untouched for a second time. 

He’s shaking when he comes back round, and pleading red eyes seek his once more. Derek is sitting back in a kneeling position and he must’ve pulled Stiles’ lower body up onto his lap at some point because he’s still inside him and it feels different. Stiles’ eyes widen as a sharp wave of pain hits him, radiating up from where he’s stretched open all the way up his lower back. 

He looks down the line of his body to Derek.

“Stiles, ’m s-sorry.” He slurs imploringly, and Stiles is confused until he sees Derek’s eyes flutter closed in pleasure so good that it looks like it’s wrecking him. He feels Derek’s cock leaking come deep inside of him, the flesh pulsing and swollen at the base where Stiles is stretched unbelievably wide around him.

“It’s okay, Derek, please,” He chokes out, dumbfounded. “Is that, are you _knotting_ me?” 

He can feel trickles of sweat falling down his temples from his hairline, down his neck and back from the sweet burn of pleasurepain. Derek can’t seem to stop coming, desperate little whines escaping his throat as he rocks up gently into Stiles. He feels so full with the pressure of Derek’s dick, his knot and his seemingly never-ending supply of come inside him. 

Stiles cock jerks, trying valiantly to get hard again and he would actually laugh if it didn’t physically hurt, the knot bumping over his oversensitive prostate with every rock of Derek’s hips. 

He needs to take a good long look at himself and his newfound kinks after tonight. And he definitely needs to talk to Derek about the surprise knotting and what it means because he didn’t even know it was a thing for werewolves. Mainstream research into the supernatural only goes so far.

Derek’s movements are starting to slow and Stiles watches as the claws on the hands resting on his hips return to normal nails, his fangs receding but the knot still firmly in place and showing no sign of going down. Derek stretches out his legs, lying down over Stiles and gently moving him until he’s laying flat on the bed once more, Derek hovering awkwardly on top of him. 

“Hey,” Stiles starts, reaching out to touch Derek’s face when he won’t meet his eyes. “Look at me.”

Derek looks broken, his face screwed up in what looks like shame.

Stiles can’t have that.

“Derek, look at me.” He demands, his voice cracking. “Please?”

Derek finally meets his gaze.

“I love you,” Derek tries to look away but Stiles holds his face in his hands, which given the position they’re in is no mean feat. “I love _all_ of you, okay?” 

Derek whimpers, but Stiles goes on. “That was the most intense sex we’ve ever had, Derek. I feel so privileged that you trust me enough to let go of control. Surely you could tell how turned on I was?”

Derek almost tries to pull away, Stiles winces slightly at the slight tug on his hole. He pulls Derek close to him, resting his head on Stiles’ chest.

“I didn’t mean to, Stiles. I didn’t, I didn’t know it was going to happen. I’m always so restrained with you, able to control the shift but tonight, you were hurt and I just wanted to protect you. Wolves are territorial and I think the thought of losing you made me want to make sure that the world knows that you’re _mine_.” 

Stiles let out a shuddering breath, trying to get his head around what Derek was telling him. Derek has always erred on the side of possessive when it comes to him; scenting him in front of the pack and leaving claiming marks on his body for all to see, but he had a feeling that this was so much more meaningful than that.

“So the knot...” Stiles prompts, trying to tread as carefully as he could despite his curiosity.

Derek sighs. “It’s never happened with anyone before. The lore says that it only happens when the wolf recognises its significant other as-”

“Their mate.” Stiles interrupts, his heart skipping a beat. 

Derek lifts his head from Stiles’ chest, his expression unreadable. Stiles looks back at him, trying to make his face look as open as possible, to make Derek aware that this is all okay. He may be, in fact, low-key freaking out at the enormity of it all. He pulls Derek into a kiss, trying to put everything unspoken into the movement of the slick slide of their mouths against each others. 

Derek pulls back when Stiles winces as the movement pulls against the shallow cut on his face. Derek whines and pushes his nose tenderly against the length of it.

“I love you so much, Stiles. But I feel like I violated you.” Stiles rolls his eyes at Derek’s words. “This is why I stay in control, Stiles. This is what happens when I let go. You were so gone, offering up your neck for me,” In submission, Stiles’ brain fills in when Derek pauses. “And I just couldn’t hold back. I could smell how into it you were and when you came I just lost it.”

“You didn’t _violate_ me.” Stiles says. “It was just really fucking intense. Like I said, I love all of you, wolf and all. It just took me by surprise, you shifting. Not to mention how much I fucking liked it, that was certainly surprising.”

His cock absolutely does not stir in interest thinking about it.

Derek snorts, sensing his flaring arousal and the movement jostles his now softening knot inside Stiles.

“Is it going down?”

“I think so.” Derek says, and he still sounds uncomfortable with the whole situation. “I’m-”

“If you say you’re sorry, I will never have scarily-hot-shifted-knotting sex with you ever again. It’ll be run of the mill, vanilla sex from here on out.”

Derek huffs an unsteady laugh, pulling his cock slowly out of Stiles. He knows he’s trying to make a joke out of a serious situation, but that’s who he is. They’re both man enough to have a proper, adult conversation about it when they’re both no longer freaked out and sex-drunk.

“So, mates, huh?” He says, while Derek moves him gently onto his side and slots himself behind Stiles, spooning him and nuzzling hesitantly at the fresh mark on his neck. “I’m more than okay with it, you know.”

Derek stills, but as Stiles relaxes into his hold he starts to lick at the mark, sucking it softly and bringing more blood to the surface, making Stiles gasp at the sensitivity.

“Jokes on you, anyway.” Stiles says. “You’re stuck with my sarcastic ass for the rest of forever. How ever will you cope?”

Derek huffs a chuckle, lightly biting Stiles’ shoulder and squeezing his hip affectionately. 

“Well now I know exactly how to reduce your sarcastic ass to a whimpering, quivering mess,” He stops to clamp his now-human teeth over the now-purple mark on Stiles’ neck, and Stiles lets out a desperate moan at the sensation. 

“I think I’ll cope just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> In brief reference to the 'dub-con' in this fic, Derek knots Stiles when he is not aware of what's going on. It is not intentional on Derek's part and Stiles is okay with it.
> 
> Comments and kudos are of course welcome! 
> 
> Please check out my [tumblr](https://snarkatthemoon.tumblr.com/) where I cry on the daily over Sterek and Dylan O'Brien.


End file.
